Choices
by Theralion
Summary: Nishizumi Maho is different things to people who know her in different ways. But how many of them, even those closest to her, know the entire story and understand the kind of person she is, and the choices she has made? Six perspectives, as well as Maho's own, shed light on the answer.
1. Takebe Saori: Distance

**Chapter 1: Takebe Saori: Distance**

I could hardly believe it when my friend, Nishizumi Miho- "Miporin" to me- greeted a girl who approached her in the tank café, and who looked like her, but with darker hair, as "Onee-chan". I was even more incredulous that the girl seemingly coldly brushed off Miporin by only saying that she did not think Miporin would still be doing tankery.

Miporin had already told me that she had a sister, although I'd heard barely anything about her except the fact that she, like the rest of the family, was interested in tankery, and very talented at it. Shortly after the team got going, we saw her sister on television, giving an interview after apparently being named an MVP in high school tankery.

I had some idea of how little we knew about Miporin's sister, all of which was information that the public was readily aware of. Akiyama Yukari, whom I called "Yukarin," was quite knowledgeable about this, and she had presumably heard of Miporin's sister before.

We did have one much more knowledgeable person about Miporin's sister- Miporin herself- but I had some idea that her family was a sensitive subject, even if I didn't know why. Some may think of me as a relatively shallow boy-chaser, but my desire for boys isn't all there is to me. I've trained myself in reading people's feelings.

So, whenever Miporin seemed down, I decided to change the subject, suggesting that we start eating when we realized that there was some reason why Miporin was reluctant to tell us why she had to switch schools, and that we go out for ice cream when it seemed almost everyone around us was excited about tankery, the choice of elective Miho was certain she wanted to reject. Talking can help us work through our problems, but only when the person in question is ready to talk, and in a good state of mind to do so.

As such, when our tankery instructor mentioned being a student of Miporin's mother, asked about her sister, and commented about how respectable the Nishizumi family school was, I decided to ask her about whether she had a boyfriend. It was possible she would say that the JGSDF had some policy against fraternization, but she seemed fairly receptive to the question, if a bit sly in her wording. I didn't get an answer, but the question had the effect I desired, as Miporin turned to me and smiled, and when the instructor resumed speaking, it was about our practice match.

It was obvious back then that even if Miporin's family was alive and well, something had happened in the past that resulted in her parting ways from her old school, as well as from her family, and coming here. And yet, as chance brought them together again, Miporin's sister seemed less than happy to see her.

Of course, I wasn't naïve enough to reject the possibility that Miporin's family was troubled. Not only was the Nishizumi family a difficult subject for Miporin, but the encounter with her sister in the cafe was mere days after Hana had been told, by her own mother, not to come home again, as a result of a disagreement regarding tankery. The idea of someone being disowned was thus neither an impossibility, nor something that we could assume only happened to other people.

But _had_ it happened? Had Miporin's mother cast her out of the family? And was her sister being ordered to shun her? None of it seemed to justify treating one's sister so coldly. I was an only child, in a fairly normal and loving family, but I believed that I understood this much.

The girl with Miporin's sister, a girl with silver hair who seemed to be her vice-captain or an assistant of some sort, made many rude remarks about Miporin, our school, and our tankery team, which Miporin's sister didn't seem to care for, but didn't say anything to stop.

Mako chimed in to point out that it would be embarrassing if those on top of the tankery circuit were defeated by a newcomer, a comment that evidently got under the silver-haired girl's skin. At that point, Miporin's sister departed, neither concurring with nor contesting what we had said.

Yukarin told us that the girls were members of Black Forest's crew, part of the formerly reigning tankery champions. Therefore, whatever our reasons were for wanting to beat Black Forest, we were facing an uphill battle. At this point, knowing what Miho's former school was, I started to understand the expectations Miporin had been living under until now, even if I didn't yet know the entire story.

* * *

One evening shortly after the encounter, we decided to have an extra practice session, in hopes of slowly, but surely, bridging the gap between us and the champions. At that time, I took the opportunity to ask about the other situation relevant to Black Forest.

"Really, what gives those two from Black Forest the right to look down on us like that?" I said.

"We are an untested newcomer, and they were, until recently, the reigning champions," Yukarin said. "They have all sorts of powerful German tanks at their command, and many experienced tankers." Yukarin seemed almost on a verge of a "tank high" about the German tanks before she continued, her enthusiasm likely dampened by the thought of Miporin being treated so dismissively. "That doesn't excuse looking down on Nishizumi-dono, but it does explain the basis for their confidence."

"I know, but is there really no chance for us to win?" I said. "And shouldn't we at least get a little respect from them? We might be novices and we might have lost against St. Gloriana, but we're trying our best- do they think we're just fooling around?"

Mako nodded in response to my final question, agreeing with the sentiment I expressed. She could stand to try harder, but she's never been fond of people who are obsessed with certain endeavors, like the silver-haired girl from the café.

"For the latter, you have a point, Takebe-dono," Yukarin said, "good sportsmanship is part of tankery. And for the former, we do have more than a chance- we have Nishizumi-dono!"

"We will not have to face them until the final match, and only if both of us make it," Hana said. "We do have more immediate problems, like Saunders."

"That's true," I said. "But since that's true, shouldn't Miporin's sister be rooting for her, or wishing her good luck? They might be on opposing sides, but even if Miporin's sister is fighting to win, there shouldn't be anything wrong with wishing that Miporin can get as far as possible, right?"

"Maybe she can't express it?" Mako said; as I gave her a confused look, she elaborated. "You've said it before, Saori; I'm not the most open with my emotions, but I care about others."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Mako," I said. "But Miporin seemed fairly upset by how cold her sister was acting."

"I suppose what I'm asking is- why not give that same benefit of the doubt to Miho's sister?" Mako said. "It's the only time we've met her in person, after all."

I paused, finding that question difficult to answer. I had known Mako for years, having many chances to see that there was more to her than met the eye, and past the surface of a lazy and apathetic individual lay a surprisingly caring friend. Maybe she did have a point, and I was judging Miporin's sister based on one encounter with her. First impressions are important, but they are not the be-all and end-all, and Miporin's sister had said very little in the encounter. When I thought about it, I knew more about some strangers I met on the bus, some of whom were good-looking guys, than I did about the sister of one of my close friends.

We then got back to work on our tankery practice. Whether we hoped to humiliate Black Forest, show that we were not to be underestimated or learn more about them, we had a lot of work to do and many matches to win before we could face them.

* * *

We ended up seeing Miporin's sister much earlier than we expected, after our match with Saunders, the first in the tournament.

A little while after we had won, Mako got a call from the Oarai hospital, informing her of her grandmother's collapse and hospitalization. This presented a problem, because while Mako was desperate to reach her grandmother, the Oarai Academy ship was away, and at the moment, we had practically no way of getting to the hospital where Mako's grandmother had been taken.

But then we heard a voice that I recognized as that of Miporin's sister, who told us to use the helicopter they had brought so that we could reach the hospital. The silver-haired girl objected, but Miporin's sister insisted that this was tankery. It clearly wasn't a case of her doing a favor, but her belief that acts of kindness were part of her personal tankery philosophy.

Mako quickly boarded the helicopter, not wanting to waste any time. Just as quickly, I followed her, wondering Miporin's sister's decision to help us had been made with the same haste. Sitting inside the helicopter, I noticed Miporin thank her departing sister, but couldn't tell what expression her sister had on her face.

Thanks to Miporin's sister and her vice-captain's reluctant cooperation, we made it in time. We heard that Mako's grandmother had been injured badly enough to be hospitalized for some time, but her life was not in danger.

Despite that issue being resolved, I had many unanswered questions about Miho, and so did Mako, the type who usually did not seem the type to get involved in others' problems, yet was deeply worried about Miho, even as her own grandmother, the last member of her family, was seemingly in great peril.

I asked Mako about it in the interminable wait for news regarding her family, and Mako said that, all things considered, she had little to complain about regarding her family while they were still alive. They had high expectations for her, but ones that were within her ability to meet, and that she had only understood that after it was too late and her parents had been killed in an auto accident.

So I had to ask myself- if Miporin or her sister unexpectedly perished, would the surviving sister be fine with any of their awkward encounters ultimately being the last time they saw each other? I didn't think so, but could only ask one of them for specifics.

* * *

On the boat ride back to school, I met with Miporin on the deck of the boat, looking out at the stars. Miporin observed that all of us had a great deal going on, having met all our families except mine. I took the opportunity to share Mako's concerns with her. She seemed touched, but did not do much except confirm what I had already heard from her- she had come to Oarai by herself.

Miporin told me little at the time, and it was not until later that Yukari mentioned the incident that caused her to leave Black Forest- when she went to save the sinking tank, abandoning her flag tank in the process and apparently costing Black Forest the championship as a result.

With that in mind, I considered everything I knew in a new light. Miporin, having great expectations placed on her in the past, was thus uncomfortable with being considered the greatest hope for Oarai's return to tankery. In particular, Miporin was probably afraid that the Student Council's drive to success would reach ruthless extremes, and she would be discouraged from making the same decision that she once had.

So did this mean that Miporin's sister, tank commander for the school she had left, was a ruthless individual? I would have accepted that without question if I had heard the entire story about Miporin's departure just after meeting Miporin's sister, but after the way she helped us with the helicopter, and overruled her vice-captain by saying that was part of tankery, I had to wonder what her true personality was, and how often she expressed it.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. Miporin's sister seemed to suppress her emotions. And perhaps Miporin herself had tried to prevent herself from expressing how painful she found the Student Council's attempts to recruit her into tankery in spite of her experiences with it, but could not bring herself to do it.

I wondered if we would ever get to see Miporin's sister in an unguarded moment. Perhaps the rest of her team, including the rude girl who was her vice captain, who saw her on a daily basis and had more chances, had seen her composure drop, but I began to doubt that. Miporin was hesitant to take command of Oarai, and I could only imagine that the pressure that the commander of Black Forest's tankery team had to endure was even greater.

I didn't see or hear much of Miporin's sister until the finals, when Miporin and her sister faced each other in the pre-battle greetings. The two didn't say much to each other- perhaps not much needed to be said, since each of them knew what they needed to do. I did, however, hear that one of Miporin's former teammates walked up to her to thank her for saving her last year, which was a promising sign. Perhaps not all of Black Forest was obsessed with victory. Perhaps some of them still cared for their old friend. Perhaps Miporin's sister was one of them.

A long, hard battle against Black Forest ensued, but in the end, we were victorious. Miporin walked up to her sister, not quite sure what to expect. Miporin's sister congratulated her on her victory, then gave her a warm smile, and approved of her style of tankery, glad to see Miporin had found one after so long.

I watched from a distance, unsure what to make of Miporin's sister, exactly. Had she changed as a result of our defeating a seemingly invincible tankery team? Or was it possible that she had been like that, all along? In either case, what seemed clear was that she was proud of her sister, and I was happy for Miporin- both for what she had accomplished, and that her sister seemed to be a kind and caring person.

As Miporin parted ways with her sister, I regretted that it was likely that I would not get to know her very well, perhaps always defining her by her relationship with Miporin. But in the short time we had seen each other thus far, I had seen indications of what she was outside of being commander of our strongest rival. And if the small glimpses at the person Miporin's sister was at heart were any indications, perhaps it would be a pleasure to get to know her better if we meet again someday.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

This fic is slightly similar in concept to Off The Path, but rather than focusing on different perspectives on an _event_, it's seven different perspectives on a _person-_ namely, Maho. As such, the six other people besides Maho(Saori, Emi, Erika, Shiho, Kikuyo and Miho) will not only have different perspectives on Maho, but will know her in different contexts, with the seventh and final chapter being Maho's own perspective.

The fic was inspired by one GuP fic, in which an OC viciously lays into Maho for not doing more for Miho, an accusation that was not only inaccurate, but also unjustified given what the OC had seen and heard of Maho so far. The author raised an interesting point about how it serves to show how Maho's relationship with Miho looks to outsider, but it seems more likely that Maho has enough self-awareness to know already, as she expresses in Chapter 7 of Little Army.

I chose Saori for the representative of Anglerfish Team because she seems like the warmest and most emotionally open member of Team Anglerfish, has the most normal family, and has ties of some sort to the rest of the girls. She's also the one who asks Miho about her family, albeit at Mako's suggestion. She also, in spite of her boy-crazy demeanor, has the capacity for being serious and quite caring when one of her friends is troubled, and seems to have the best insights about others' feelings of all of Team Anglerfish, (not counting Miho, who has her own unique perspective on Maho).

Saori, as the one who knows Maho the least, is meant to, in some ways, represent how someone who's only watched the anime might see Maho- as an Aloof Big Sister who, nevertheless, has a few Pet the Dog moments to show redeeming qualities, whose final scene could be interpreted as the result of character development or having been here all along. That's why most of the scenes here are from the anime.

You may see the characters using various terms to refer to Maho. Their choice will reflect their relationship to her- friend of her sister, acquaintance, subordinate, mother, maid and sister- as well as how well they know or relate to her, and how much their relationship is indirect or based on a position Maho has. As with first-person perspectives, the same scenes will be colored by the various participants' memories of them, which is why I had the narrators tell us about the scenes, as though they were telling the reader a story.

One last note- Miho will enter into this fic a fair amount. Not only is she the main character, but she heavily factors into Maho's motivations. Most of the narrators interact with both sisters quite a bit (some with Miho more than Maho), and, as I mentioned before, one of them is Miho herself.

_Edited to make a few changes._

**Next Time**: Emi thought she had all the reason she needed to hate Maho. But will that reason be challenged when Emi finally meets Maho?


	2. Nakasuga Emi: Truth

**Chapter 2: Nakasuga Emi: Truth**

I've often heard that making a good first impression is important, typically as part of a warning for me to mind my manners. But what happens when your first impression of someone else turns out to be wrong? Do you let it color your perception of them forever, or do you revise your perception of that individual, discarding everything you thought you knew about them if it proves false?

When I first heard about Nishizumi Maho, it was a less than admirable impression of her. My older sister, leading our home country of Germany's team against Japan, lost against Japan's team, which was commanded by Nishizumi Maho.

I know what you're thinking- was I mad at her because she beat my sister? That's not the entire story. Near the end of the match, one of the Japanese tanks had an accident, falling down a cliff that had been weakened by the bad weather. Under normal circumstances, it was a good route with which they could attack the German team. And from what I saw on TV, the ground seemed significantly more stable than it actually was.

My sister told me that she, having concluded that the match was a hopeless one for her team, raced off in her flag tank to save the imperiled Japanese tank. She didn't do it so that she could be praised or thanked, but because it was the right thing- I think only the rest of the German team, and our family knew about the choice she had made, at first.

But then one of the Japanese team's tanks fired on my sister's flag tank, taking her out of the game, and thwarting her rescue attempt. Luckily, in spite of that, all the crew members were rescued and survived. That tank was under the command of Nishizumi Maho, the Japanese MVP and overall team commander- a name that was already familiar to me, even before what had happened.

That was all I knew about her at first, as well as all I thought I needed to know. One's choices often say a great deal about oneself, and I thought that she, by making that choice, had more than adequately proven that she valued victory above all else, even her subordinates' safety.

That summer, as class reconvened, I met Nishizumi Maho's younger sister, Nishizumi Miho-san, who practically worshipped the ground her sister walked on, and was positively delighted that her sister was the star of the school.

I was infuriated- how could she idolize the person who defeated my sister? How could she look up to the person who shot at a tank that was trying to save her own teammates? I couldn't help but make my distaste for my sister clear, even if I didn't bring up why; I'm not sure if it was more because she wouldn't believe me or I was concerned how she would take it if she did. This earned me the ire of our mutual acquaintance, Yusa Chihiro-san, who often got on my case for taking out my anger on Nishizumi-san; even the relatively cheerful Yuzumoto Hitomi-san didn't like my tendency to do so, either.

Yeah, I do have a problem with saying what's on my mind, regardless of whether it's appropriate. I sometimes blame my troubles on Japan having a culture that places value on politeness, but my mom, my German parent, is the one who most often yells at me when I get out of line. So, too, does Yusa-san, although she also apologizes when she steps over the line herself.

By chance, I happened to meet Nishizumi Maho in person one day, and noticed how excited Nishizumi-san was to see her sister. The elder sister was similarly pleased, if a bit more emotionally reserved than her younger sister, being especially happy that her sister was finally able to make friends.

For some reason, I couldn't stand being around her, as questions went through my head. Did she honestly pride herself on being a good sister and a good human being after doing the things she did in tankery? Or was it possible I had misjudged her? I wasn't happy with imagining either possibility.

I remembered one time my sister and I watched a movie together when we were both young. My sister, observing some of the guards for the bad guys, wondered what the guards did while they were off duty, and whether they had families, friends and interests outside of work, even if they had chosen to fight for the wrong side. Back then, I'd dismissed it, and thought of the guards as mere "bad guys".

But now, I noticed that things weren't always so simple. A part of me wondered if this was the person Nishizumi Maho was outside of tankery. But another part found it easier to hate her, as well as dehumanize her to some degree. So that's what I, as a ten-year-old kid, did.

Unable to take it any longer, I walked home. I ended up upsetting Nishizumi-san, and did so even more badly when she followed up on it the next day, and I told her how much I hated her sister, causing a fight and sending her home in tears.

But Nishizumi-san did more than just cry at her home, as she arranged a tankery match between our team and her sister. It took some convincing, but I agreed to it. The prospect of beating Nishizumi Maho when my sister had failed was quite tempting, and I wonder if Nishizumi-san knew I had that desire.

The match was surprisingly close. Nishizumi-san was a natural, and her sister had a trio of squabbling students from her mother's school, mere beginners compared to her teammates in the tournament. But Nishizumi Maho's team prevailed, showing how far we had to go. In spite of that, I had to admit that I enjoyed it.

In the middle of the battle, I hit my head on the side of the tank. After the battle ended, Nishizumi Maho noticed my injury from just a glance, and although I was hesitant to accept the help or even show it to her, she offered me medicinal ointment to prevent it from swelling.

It was a random act of kindness, but by performing it, she most likely unwittingly put me in a difficult position. Her being the one who fired on my sister's tank during its rescue mission was an apparent fact. But it was no longer the whole story, and so, I couldn't hold back from telling her about it, consequences be damned. I had to find the truth, and learn whether I was wrong or if there was some explanation for what happened.

Nishizumi Maho's face contorted with surprise as I told her about it. Looking back on what I had heard, I suppose my sister's intentions were not clear to an onlooker, especially not an enemy. And I suspect that my sister did not want her opponent to learn what she had just thwarted. With the crisis having turned out relatively well, albeit _despite_ Nishizumi Maho's actions, my sister, who was always more considerate than I was, had no desire to make her victorious adversary feel guilty.

Nishizumi-san was desperate to hear some explanation from her sister, or hear her disprove my accusations. I had no intentions of causing her to lose faith in her sister, merely to find answers for myself, so I began to regret even bringing this up. I even momentarily wondered if I had the wrong tank, and whether an overzealous member of the Japanese team had taken the shot without being ordered to do so.

Nishizumi Maho was about to say something, but then her mother arrived, a tall and somewhat imposing woman in a dark business suit. Seeing her mother arrive, she immediately became very quiet, serious and obedient. She did not speak unless she was spoken to, and as such, had no words to spare for her younger sister, much less one of us, before she left with her mother.

Nishizumi-san parted ways with us, clearly upset by what had happened, and was no better when she came to class the next day, pondering quitting tankery. Insistent on finding out why, I almost literally dragged her to a secluded area where Yusa-san and Yuzumoto-san were waiting, and insisted that she tell the truth.

Nishizumi-san told the three of us what had happened. The previous evening, after we went home following the match, she had approached her sister, who coldly replied that she had given the order to shoot, as the Nishizumi style had dictated. A few days ago, I would have concluded that was the final proof that Nishizumi Maho was a ruthless and unscrupulous leader who was obsessed with victory and had little room in her heart for her own sister, much less her opponents.

But Yusa-san and Yuzumoto-san had known Nishizumi Maho for as long as I did, and, having learned what I had always known, knew as much as I did, but they reached different conclusions. They became confused, and Yuzumoto-san suggested that Nishizumi Maho was not acting like herself. Yusa-san suggested that Nishizumi Maho's strict mother was the cause of her change in behavior, implying that it was to conform to her mother's expectations.

So if they reached those conclusions, based on what they had heard, what should I think? Who was the real Nishizumi Maho? I realized it was time to find out, as well as help Nishizumi-san reach the bottom of this issue, lest she again be driven to abandon tankery.

A few hours later, the four of us were sitting before Nishizumi Maho and her mother. The latter had no desire to see us here, and the former of appeared shocked that Miho would go so far, even under the harsh gaze of her mother.

Nishizumi-san's question to her mother had surprisingly few results. Her mother berated her for even asking it, said yes, and essentially threw us out of the house, before we could even get her elder daughter to talk to us. It only confirmed what we knew- that Nishizumi Maho had made the decision that we thought we had, and her mother was a stuck-up woman who belittled her younger daughter and looked down on others.

But on our way out, the last person I expected to speak up- the quiet, demure and polite maid who had shown us in and was the referee for our tank battle, spoke up, begging us not to hate Nishizumi Maho, and saying that she bore the burden of being heiress. No one seemed to be telling her to do this, and she appeared to have no reason to do this, so I wondered what reason she had for saying this. I ultimately concluded, however, that the only reason she would have for saying this was because she believed it was the truth, and she desperately wanted us to hear it. She had no expectations that we would act on this knowledge, but said it anyway because she believed it was the right thing to do, a sentiment not unlike my sister's reason for going on the rescue mission.

There were still many things I did not know about Nishizumi Maho. But it no longer seemed fair for me to assume the worst about her or assume that she had no regard for others' well-being. A feeling of regret came over me, and after a moment of thought, I recognized it as what I felt every time I saw Nishizumi Maho do something that did not fit my perception of her.

As the maid began to drive us home, I asked her to stop the jeep, and ran out, hoping to apologize to Nishizumi Maho before it was too late. Apologizing was fairly difficult for me to do, so I wanted to be sure I could do it before I lost my nerve, striking while the iron was hot, so to speak.

Nishizumi Maho appeared to be occupied when I saw her from a distance, which was also likely the only reason I was able to avoid being spotted. Upon closer examination, she was speaking with Nishizumi-san.

I didn't hear all of the conversation, but I heard two important things. First, Nishizumi Maho expressed surprise that her younger sister would, even with the help of her friends, so directly challenge her mother's ideology, and apologized to her. She then told her sister to seek out her own way of tankery, something that odious woman who happened to be their mother would never allow. Nishizumi-san, cheered by this, said yes, and Nishizumi Maho approved, with the same warmth in her voice that I had heard when I first met her in person.

The two sisters walked off, apparently to dinner, while I quickly returned to the jeep and apologized to the maid, before heading home. I had not succeeded in meeting Nishizumi Maho, but I felt I had found my answers.

Unfortunately, I would be leaving for Germany soon, and I would not have time to accompany Miho on her quest to find a new way of tankery. But I did have time to meet with Nishizumi Maho once in person, the day after the meeting at the Nishizumi house.

* * *

Encountering Nishizumi Maho on my way home the next day, I called out to her.

"Nishizumi Maho…-san!" I called out. The convenient thing about Japanese honorifics is that you can insert them quickly if you forget them- a correction I couldn't do if I forgot to call her "Fraulein Nishizumi"- and I ended up having to correct myself fairly often to stay in people's good graces.

Nishizumi Maho turned around and

"Ah, you must be Miho's friend," she said.

"Yes, I'm Nakasuga Emi," I said. "And I'd like to apologize to you."

"For what?" she said, confused, even though she seemed to remember who I was. "As you heard from Mother, what you said was true; I did shoot your sister's tank. I may not have known what it was doing, but the Nishizumi style dictated that I make that choice, regardless of what I knew at the time."

Nishizumi Maho's words bore a regretful tone, but also one that was resigned. Even if I was still angry, it would not have brought me any satisfaction to lay into her the way she was at the moment.

"And that wo-your mother, is making you and your younger sister do tankery that way?" I said.

"No, just me," she said. "Kikuyo-san told you, didn't she? That the Nishizumi school is passed from mother to child?"

I nodded.

"Mother needs only one of us to inherit it," Nishizumi Maho said. "So, long ago, I decided I would be the one who would. Because if Miho is not the inheritor of our school what is she, then? I believe she can- and should- find out for herself."

"So that's why you told her to find her own way of tankery," I said. As Nishizumi Maho paused slightly, I decided to explain why I knew this. "I…overheard your conversation with her after Yusa-san, Yuzumoto-san and I were sent away. I was trying to get to you that night to apologize, but I wasn't able to speak with you. In any case, that explains a great deal."

"It's always been clear that Miho is not able to do tankery the Nishizumi way," she said. "Her reaction to what she heard about me says it all. But she enjoys tankery, and if she always keeps that in mind, she will be able to find her own reasons and methods."

"That sounds like it might be difficult," I said. "When I think about it, I've always been driven for victory in tankery, even if I haven't been _really_ competing thus far, and even if it seems like a weak sort of resolve to your mother."

"Well, I believe Miho will be able to find the way," she said, "and I also believe that it is a decision she can only make for herself. But that doesn't mean she's alone- her friends, people like you, will help her."

"Maybe so," I said. "I'll see what I can do for her, but I won't be around for much longer."

"Neither will I," she said. "So all I can do is wish Miho the best, and give you my thanks for helping her."

Our conversation soon ended, and we said goodbye to each other, since we had to get home.

I parted ways with Nishizumi Maho, still having trouble grasping the idea of a sister sacrificing so much for her younger sister's sake, or going down a path where she did not expect her sister to follow, especially not when my older sister was eagerly awaiting the day when I would do tankery with her. But I understood Nishizumi Maho's desire for her sister to find her own path, especially because I shared that desire. And as I returned to Germany, I hoped that by the time Miho and I met again, we would have our own ways of tankery, and tankery would bring us together again.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows.

severstal: I made some changes based on what you suggested.

It is true that Maho's my favorite GuP character. She's also the one people have the most different perspectives on, whether a ruthless rival, a stern yet respectable commander, or a loving sister.

Some people said Maho and Erika were "epic bitches" back then, but it's a difficult sell comparing Erika and Maho. As for Maho being "a Teru parody"("Expy" is a better term for one character that resembles another in a non-ironic sense), it's established fairly early on in Saki that Saki and Teru aren't on speaking terms, and while developments over time seem to suggest that the Miyanaga family's situation is worse than we thought, I can't see Maho being viewed in the same light as Teru (although Nodoka, despite being the only one to talk to Saki about Teru, doesn't say much about her opinion about Teru).

That's a fair point about the Student Council, but one interpretation I heard on TV Tropes that seems characteristic of them is that Anzu's style of management can be described as preferring to "let them do as they want, as long as it more or less suits what you want them to do, but take matters in your hands if they don't," with the scene in Episode 1 is described as an example of the latter. It's possible that Miho inferred, at one point, that if the Student Council was willing to pressgang a promising recruit into the tankery team under threat of expulsion, they might use the same threat to force her to abandon a sinking tank (even if this conclusion isn't necessarily true).

Emi debuted in Little Army, and the entirety of her scenes in this chapter are from there, save for the implied apology scene. I inferred that Emi while Emi couldn't find Maho, she'd likely keep trying until Maho went back to school.

I was considering having Emi re-appear for a comment on Miho's decision to save the tank, but don't know where she would end up in the years since then or how exactly she'd react. I can only guess that she would _approve_ of the rescue, but _disapprove_ of Miho's deciding to give up on tankery afterward.

One interesting thing about Emi is that while she's fairly blunt and even rude, she actually is relatively formal with her friends, referring to them by their last name and "–san." She seems to like referring to Maho by her full name, without honorifics, possibly to indicate her intentionally taking on a ruder tone for her. I tried to use various alternate terms for Maho's name when I could, to keep this tendency, but not make it get repetitive.

_Edited to change a German/Japanese mistake._

**Next Time**: Erika has long looked up to Maho, but in spite of how long she's served under Maho, she realizes that there are many things about her she does not know, and some things she never will.


	3. Itsumi Erika: Superiority

**Chapter 3: Itsumi Erika: Superiority**

Throughout my time in tankery, I've often heard certain phrases regarding the schools I entered and the positions I've earned. They include "a rare opportunity," "a great honor," and "something not just anyone can earn."

I first met my commander, Nishizumi Maho, when I was a student at the Nishizumi School as a young girl, taking a preliminary tankery training program. My parents had enrolled me in the school to gain an edge over all my future competitors in tankery, as well as potential rivals for a command post in my own team. Throughout the entire process, I was told to be on my best behavior, to present as good of an impression as possible.

Upon arriving, I saw a girl with short brown hair, who wore the same uniform as the rest of the students, and looked to be, at most, a year older than I was. I assumed she was yet another student, from her youthful appearance and how she was dressed, until she addressed Instructor Nishizumi as "Mother." Instructor Nishizumi introduced the girl as Nishizumi Maho, her daughter, assistant, and heiress.

After a moment of surprise, I was quite relieved that I had not done anything to make a bad first impression on her, since anything she saw would likely be reported to her mother. With this information in mind, I adopted an attitude that was respectful without being sycophantic. This was my chance to show how much better I was than the other students, and how much more deserving I was of her attention. My motives were self-serving, but my respect for her was genuine.

I also had to wonder what sort of attitude Instructor Nishizumi's daughter was putting on for the students, more than a few of whom were older than she was. She had to present herself confidently and competently, to show that she knew tankery better than the older girls, and was the right person to teach them. If she succeeded, she would have their attention long enough for her to show her skill, and do her duties in helping the instructor teach the students. If she failed, she would be dismissed as yet another child riding her mother's coattails, instead of being promoted on her own merits. While being on my best behavior was something I had to do for occasions when it truly mattered, she had to do it all the time, a bit like the difference between wearing a suit for a job interview and wearing one to work every day.

Regardless of whether her confident and authoritative behavior was a façade, I found my instructor's daughter to be a respectable individual, one who was entirely serious and committed to upholding the honor of her family's school, and winning regardless of the cost. I acknowledged the possibility that her calmness was not always indicative of her feelings, but even if this were true, her ability to give off that appearance showed the full extent of her discipline and determination. I therefore committed myself to my training with the same resolve, not just out of a belief that being in her good graces would be good for me, but also because of my desire to emulate her.

Eventually, the time came for me to enter high school, and I enrolled in Black Forest Women's College, the reigning tankery champions. I wanted a school with tankers who possessed skill and resolve comparable to mine. Furthermore, the fact that Nishizumi Maho, whom I admired so much, had enrolled there and commanded the team, was a promising sign, both of what kind of school it was, and the kind of people who would be on my team.

In my first year, I applied for the vacant Vice-Captain position, but was rejected. I was greatly surprised to hear that the person who took the position was a fellow first-year, as I had assumed that if I were passed over for the position, it would only be to one of the upperclassmen. But that surprise faded away when I found out that she was the Commander's younger sister, someone who had trained in tankery for as long and almost as hard as the Commander herself.

I would be lying if I said I was not at all jealous of her, or if I claimed that I never considered the possibility of nepotism. The latter was, after all, the simplest possible explanation, with the only question being whether the Commander was responsible, or if it was Instructor Nishizumi. I also admit that my victorious rival's meekness- in stark contrast to the Commander's calm confidence- did not endear her to me, especially considering the great pressure Black Forest commanders were under.

But the Vice-Captain was able to win, and was a skilled tactician. In those senses, she was able to fulfill her expectations, and perhaps the person happiest about this was the Commander. I wondered if the Commander was rejoicing over our continued successes or her decision being vindicated, if not something else entirely. As for the latter, however, I had to admit that if the Vice-Captain continued performing well, she would be an asset to the team, and might yet convince me that she deserved the position more than I did.

Of course, Black Forest's winning streak ended in the tournament finals of my first year of high school. I did not witness what happened first-hand, despite competing in the final match, but I heard about it later- after seeing one of our tanks plunge into the water, the Vice-Captain jumped out of the flag tank to go after it. She succeeded in saving the crew, but while she was away, a Pravda tank fired on our flag tank, defeating us.

Any respect I had for the Vice-Captain evaporated then and there. I had been willing to accept her being appointed instead of me, because I had seen her perform her duties well, perhaps better than I could. But if she could not be counted on to do what was necessary in a situation like this, whatever the cost, then we could not count on her to be a good Vice-Captain.

But while I was certain of this much, when I heard that she was not only stepping down from her position, but leaving the school and quitting tankery, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, that was further proof that she was unsuited to be in a leadership position, and paved the way for me to assume leadership in her stead. On the other, Black Forest had paid the price for her decision, and everyone, myself included, would know that I had not been the Commander's first choice for Vice-Captain after my predecessor from two years ago graduated.

Speaking of the Commander, the fact that she was the one who nominated her sister as the Vice-Captain kept coming to mind, and the implications of it greatly disturbed me. Acknowledging it as a mistake would be acknowledging that she, one of the few people I respected in tankery, had made a mistake, quite possibly as a result of her sisterly love clouding her judgment . Indeed, I had believed she set a strong example as a leadership, and, to be more specific, that her decisions during that battle were both sound and in keeping with the Nishizumi School's principles.

Of course, I still could not fully resolve all my doubts about the Commander, and I suspected that neither could anyone else. I considered my views about the Commander to be representative of the majority of Black Forest's tankery team, or at least, the majority of those who were willing to speak their minds. After an unexpected loss that ended our almost decade-long winning streak, people were wondering where we went wrong, and some were pointing the finger of blame at the Commander, whether for good reasons or bad reasons. With her position precarious in her final year, the Commander could not afford to do anything that might further compromise her position. To that end, she had to be careful about how she associated with and spoke of the disgraced former Vice-Captain- even if she was her sister.

If the Commander was unhappy about this state of things, or was at all nervous about the expectations on her, she did not show it- that was the last thing she could afford to do. But if the Commander found the pressure to succeed the year after an unexpected defeat unpleasant or intimidating, I welcomed it as a challenge and an opportunity to prove myself superior to my predecessor, wherever she had ended up.

* * *

The next year began, and, through circumstances largely unknown to me, the Commander's younger sister ended up at Oarai, in command of its team. I didn't know the entire story, such as why Oarai would get involved in tankery again, but two things seemed clear to me. The Commander's sister was running away from her failure. And, whatever she might have done in the past, she was now the only one with tankery experience at her school. Oarai was thus eager to recruit her in the same sense that a starving person would scrounge through the garbage for a scrap of food. The former Vice-Captain had fallen quite far, and I couldn't resist rubbing in the fact that I now stood in the same position the Commander's sister once had.

All the Commander could say to her sister was "I didn't think you'd still be doing tankery," a carefully calculated response considering her current position. I would have had harsher words for the former Vice-Captain, possibly chiding her about whether she planned to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory yet again but I suppose that was all I could expect from the Commander.

None of the other four girls at the table seemed to like that, and one stood up, telling me that the former Vice-Captain's decision was not wrong. I immediately told her that it was none of her business- she wasn't there, and did not have to deal with the consequences of the decision. The Commander asked me to come along, and I let off a parting comment about how Oarai would soon lose to Saunders.

The redhead and the taller girl with dark hair were offended- did they truly think their school had a chance against Saunders? But as I tried to enlighten them as to their school's position at the bottom of the tankery food chain, the otherwise silent shorter girl with dark hair, who remained seated, merely remarked that it would be quite amusing if those on top of the heap of tankery were dethroned by an outsider. The gall of a mere amateur to even propose defeating the champions when Pravda had only won by a stroke of luck infuriated me, but as I regained my composure, I hoped Saunders would make them know their place, and cause them to realize how much more effort they had to put into tankery to be worthy to compete in the tournament. Rank amateurs winning such a match would only be an insult to all the time and effort talented people like myself spent improving themselves.

* * *

Unfortunately, my prediction did not hold true, and Oarai was able to triumph over Saunders. If the Commander was surprised, she did not show it, mostly keeping her opinions to herself. Of course, I was hesitant to admit just how much the prospect of Oarai winning bothered me, if only because doing so would imply a belief that they _could_ win.

While the Commander and I took a walk after the match, off in the distance, we saw the former Vice-Captain and the four Oarai girls we had seen with her at the cafe talking with each other about something. The mood hardly seemed characteristic of celebrating a victory over a stronger opponent, and as the Commander and I approached, we learned why. Evidently, the shorter girl with dark hair's grandmother had been hospitalized for some reason, and she could not reach the hospital as long as the Oarai ship was away.

Naturally, I connected the dots in my mind, and realized that our Focke-Achgelis Fa 223 helicopter was a means of transportation we could use to get there. But Black Forest wasn't a charity service, and we didn't give out rides to just anyone, especially not those who had seen fit to insult us.

Evidently, the Commander was a bit faster on the draw, and she immediately told the girls they could use the helicopter, even surprising her younger sister. I wondered if it was because the girl in question was a friend of the Commander's younger sister.

The Commander then shot down my objections, pre-emptively declaring that "This is also part of tankery." In other words, she saw the action of providing help to an opposing school's team off the battlefield as compatible with the Nishizumi school's doctrine. But the most relevant fact was that she, my tankery commander, was giving me an order.

On the helicopter flight over, the girl with short dark hair and her red-haired friend talked in the back. The sounds of the engine and the spinning of the blades did not drown out the conversation, but it made it almost indistinct, and I hardly cared what they were talking about. Their opinion of me was likely no more favorable than before, especially my taking umbrage at being ordered to fly them, and yet, that did not matter to me. The Commander likely also had to deal with a great deal of people not liking the way she did things, and had to persist in spite of that, so it seemed easy to disregard the opinions of mere amateurs who got lucky against Saunders.

We reached our destination and I dropped off the girls, who thanked us, even though I was merely following orders. Having done my duty, I flew back. When I met up with the Commander, she said "Thank you," in a tone that sounded more heartfelt than the standard tone she uses for those who carry out her orders.

* * *

Oarai won the next two matches, advancing to the finals and pitting them against us. During Oarai's semi-finals match with Pravda, I did not see much of the commander, who said she was dealing with matters relating to her family. She told me many things, from when and how long she would be gone, to what I should do if she were absent, but refused to disclose what she was discussing at home, seeming somewhat uncomfortable to even consider the subject.

I thus had to put the pieces together. I concluded that Instructor Nishizumi knew about her younger daughter returning to tankery. And if my guess about the Commander was correct, she, too, was taking an interest in how her sister was doing, since she was the one who invited me to see her matches; when she told me she was going to watch the match between Oarai and Pravda with her mother, I politely told her I would not be going to that match.

As arrogant as it may sound for a subordinate to make demands of her superior, even implicitly, I expected the Commander to be able to put her feelings aside and do what it took to bring victory to our school and win, just as her sister had failed to do as our Vice-Captain. And that was what the Commander did, albeit quite possibly not for the reasons I expected her to do so.

The final match was a series of one setback after another. Oarai unleashed smoke against us to cover their retreat. They detracked a Jagdpanther and inserted a Hetzer in its place, throwing us into disarray. They managed to cross the river and escape us, even dragging an M3 Lee that was suffering engine failure along. They destroyed a bridge, enabling them to reach the town before we did. They defeated the Maus, the largest superheavy tank in history. And finally, they were able to trap the Commander in a square, with their sole remaining tank. Few of those were what I expected- could it be that my prediction that we would win was similarly erroneous?

As I grew infuriated over these developments, the Commander remained calm. Was it because she had foreseen the possibility of all these developments and factored them into her plan? Was it because the situation was still one in which she had the power to win? Or was it because an outcome in which her sister was victorious was desirable to her? But I knew what I had to do, and desperately ordered my tank to advance toward the Commander's tank... just in time to see her defeated by the former Vice-Captain.

The Commander spoke with her sister, congratulating her and seeming pleased that she had found her own way of tankery. The warmth in her voice was something I had not heard from her in any of our encounters, and was likely a side she only showed to her sister. It seemed oddly fitting that I could not see the Commander's face at the moment from my vantage point in our jeep, just as how I was unable to see many aspects of her, even over the years we've known each other.

As the Commander and I drove back, I concluded that I never knew her as well as I had thought. Of course, I had also misjudged her sister's level of talent and determination, so it was possible I had formed a mistaken impression of the Commander herself all along.

So who was the Commander, really? I hope to keep in touch with her after she graduated and find out for myself. Perhaps the time has come to know her as a person, rather than merely the commander I had admired so much.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows.

severstal:That was my mistake. It was the Japanese tank in Emi's account in Little Army.

Perhaps Emi does come to forgive Maho fairly quickly, but judging from Maho's reaction, Emi likely infers that Maho would not, if given the choice, knowingly taken advantage of that. Maho's actions aren't necessarily seen as "penance," but more revealing a side of her that doesn't fit with Emi's view of her. As a result, concluding that Maho didn't knowingly do what she did is an easier way for Emi to reconcile the conflicting evidence about Maho than the idea that Maho's a loving sister outside of tankery and a ruthless commander in it.

Joannes:Maho has evolved a fair amount since Little Army was released, although there aren't that many fanfics that were released before Little Army became widely available, and Maho tends to only show up if the Nishizumi family and/or Black Forest is a large part of the fanfic.

That's a good perspective regarding Shiho. My belief regarding her parenting is that she does what she does because she believes that 1)it's for the good of her children/students, and 2)the results are proof that it works. It's fairly difficult to convince Shiho that she's wrong about the former, but it may be interesting whether he view about the latter holds up after two defeats in the last two years.

Erika is difficult to portray sympathetically or in a nuanced way while also keeping her in character (especially her tendency to insult Miho and look down on Oarai, as well as disagreeing with Maho on whether to help Mako get to the hospital), but I decided to show things from her point of view, so that we could understand her perspective. Perhaps she might be arrogant, but she's somewhat self-aware, and she most likely believes she has evidence that Miho is inferior to her, and that Oarai has no hope of succeeding.

The original version I had in mind had her being completely oblivious to Maho's true personality and goals, but when I wrote it up, I chose to make her have some idea that there's more to Maho than she lets on, especially after the scene in which she gives a ride to Team Anglerfish.

**Next Time**: For Shiho, one's actions matter more than one's reasons, especially as far as her heiress is concerned. So how well does she know her daughters?


	4. Nishizumi Shiho: Tradition

**C****hapter 4: Nishizumi Shiho: Tradition**

From the moment I was born as a daughter of the Nishizumi family, I inherited a great responsibility. Before I was old enough to fully understand why, I was trained for the purpose of succeeding my mother as head of the Nishizumi School. For most people, keeping and maintaining a tradition seems too abstract a concept for them to dedicate their lives, but it was all the reason I needed.

The journey from an untrained child to the head of a tankery school is not a short or easy one by any stretch of the imagination. I trained from a young age, putting in long hours in addition to my schoolwork, and being expected to excel in both school and tankery. I had very little free time to enjoy myself or socialize with other children, and before long, I found I had little in common with other girls my age.

Some people would call my childhood a miserable one, but few can deny what I have achieved for myself later in life, because I spent it preparing for tankery. As such, I would call it a good exchange, and proof that you cannot achieve anything meaningful without dedication and sacrifice. I would make that trade again, and I would raise my children to believe this as well.

When I entered middle school, I was quickly chosen as leader for my tankery teams, and led the team to victory time and time again, continuing the process in high school and beyond. Because I had worked so hard, I knew everything I needed to know. Because I was disciplined, I was able to persist, even when times were difficult. And because I had helped at my mother's school, I was able to gain the respect of my subordinates. All this helped further prepare me for the day when I would become head instructor of the Nishizumi School, and thus continue to provide a first-rate education for people who were learning tankery.

Even though my school was one of the best-regarded in the country, and Black Forest, the unofficial school of choice for the Nishizumis, won year after year, I would still have to look to the future, when I could no longer head the Nishizumi School. That was where my eldest daughter, Maho, came in.

Some regard passing down positions from parent to child to be an outdated concept, a concept that is rooted in nepotism and favors sentimentality over practicality. This is not always untrue, but it's only true if it's approached with the wrong mindset- in other words, if you choose your child because she is your child, rather than because you have raised her to be ready for the position. Maho was someone I had known for all her life, whom I had raised for the purpose of succeeding me, and was someone I felt confident was skilled enough for the job.

As an insurance policy of sorts, I had a second daughter, named Miho. As the youngest, she would only succeed the school if something befell Maho, or if Maho was otherwise unable to perform her duties. It was unwise to invest too much one in one possible successor, leaving my school vulnerable to calamity if something unforeseen happened.

But what if Maho succeeding in becoming the ideal Nishizumi heiress? What role would Miho play in that situation? Miho needed only do tankery at an acceptable standard for the Nishizumis. I found it disappointing that she was not actively trying to prove herself to me, or prove herself superior over her older sister, but as Maho was turning out to be a desirable heiress, I was content with the way things were. Miho was not suited to be my heiress, but if she could reliably achieve victory, that would be enough. And if she was committed enough to do her duties, she would be able to use that commitment to go far later in life.

Unfortunately, I soon had reason to question Miho's commitment. After Maho succeeded in winning the tournament for Japan by shooting a tank that was going to save one of hers, Miho asked if she needed to do so- in other words, whether there were things that took precedence over victory. That she would even need to ask indicated that she was not yet sure of it, and her reaction as I gave my answer indicated that she was unwilling to accept it.

Miho did not ask me such questions again, but the fact that she had gave me reason to wonder if she was truly willing to go as far as she had to, or if she would quit as soon as things became difficult for her. How far would she get in life with that kind of half-hearted resolve and unwillingness to make risks and sacrifices?

By contrast, Maho's will seemed to falter at times, and while I intended to cure her of that flaw, I knew that she always did her duty when I needed her to do so. Ultimately, the end result matters most of all to the Nishizumis, and Maho's ability to make the hard decisions and bring about the desired results was why I trusted her to succeed me as head of our school.

* * *

The previous night, when I first met with Maho after her victory, I had spoken with her, discussing her tactics in detail with her.

"Using the cliff-side path was a good tactic," I said, "and helped greatly in your efforts against the German team. Their failure to take advantage of such methods led to their undoing."

Maho remained silent, with not even a "Yes, Mother," coming out of her mouth.

"Maho?" I said.

Maho sighed, evidently reluctant to disclose what was on her mind, but knowing that she could not back out at this point.

"Did you hear the news, Mother?" Maho said. "About the tank that had the accident?"

"I did," I said, "as well as that the girls survived, which is fortunate."

"But before then, when the German flag tank rushed out, it was trying to save them," Maho said. "I had no idea what it was doing before, but now that I've seen it, it makes sense. Their sending the flag tank out into the open, a tactic that forfeited all hope of winning, was done _because_ they were no longer trying to win, but to save those girls."

I paused to consider what Maho had said, as well as the sentiments of regret that were obvious even if she did not say them out loud, and there was only one answer I could give.

"Then that's all the more reason why they lost," I said bluntly. "They lost sight of what they were aiming for- victory- and once they did, it was their undoing. Rather than take advantage of what had befallen you, continuing to proceed toward their goal while leaving the rescue to the rescue team, they chose to make themselves vulnerable to try to save the opposing team. And disregarding all that, why would they commit their flag tank to the rescue operation?"

Maho paused a moment, having anticipated my response.

"From what I heard later, it seems likely that they thought victory was no longer possible," Maho said, "and that we would have won even if we had allowed their flag tank to pass and rescue our team's tank. That's why they sent their flag tank after our fallen tank even though they knew they'd likely forfeit any remaining chance of victory. That's why the girl I met for the second time today is angry with me."

I paused and sighed. Maho had accomplished what I had set out to do, and had become an excellent tanker, even at such a young age, but doubt remained within her. I thus decided to do what I could to remove that doubt, so Maho could make the important decisions more easily in the future.

"So you understand the difference between you and them," I said. "Never forget that, and never lose sight of what matters most."

Maho nodded. She seemed less than happy about having to take the shot, but I let it go for the moment. I knew that given that situation in the future, Maho would take the shot again, because she knew what was expected of her.

* * *

So what was the difference between Miho and Maho? What caused Miho to shy away from taking the steps required for victory that Maho took? I never was able to pinpointt the exact answer, and could only hope that Miho's shortcomings would not hold us back.

Years passed, with Miho joining Maho in middle school, and helping uphold the Nishizumi tradition. I knew, even without asking Miho, that she still had the same beliefs that led her to ask that question of me years ago, but could not deny that she had contributed greatly to the Nishizumi School's glory by helping her sister win.

Then the incident happened, and Miho sacrificed victory in the tournament finals to save the sinking tank. That decision, combined with her previous reaction to Maho's decision at her first tournament, showed where her priorities lay. And when contrasted with Maho's decision, it showed that she lacked the resolve to even perform at an acceptable level.

In spite of Miho's responsibility for the debacle, Maho would need to be even more mindful than ever of her position. Nothing could completely erase the stain that Miho's actions had made on the Nishizumi School's reputation, but if Maho performed well enough, there would be no doubt that Miho was the one whose actions had cost us the victory.

Maho seemed somewhat upset over what had happened with Miho, but did not openly complain about it. And she fulfilled my expectations, defeating all of Black Forest's opponents until she reached the finals of the tournament. In those regards, she did what I expected of her, and pulled through where it mattered, which is what ultimately matters most, and more than I could say for Miho.

But Miho's deviation from the Nishizumi ideals had worsened in her time away from Black Forest, and all hope of her coming around seemed lost. I thus considered disowning Miho, to ensure that people would understand that whatever actions she chose to take in the future, she would not do so while representing the Nishizumi family or the Nishiizumi School.

Many people would call this an extreme reaction, and they are not entirely wrong, as this was not a step I had originally planned on taking. As much as some call me heartless for my treatment of those who lack my resolve, I hoped Miho would obey me, the course of action I considered most beneficial to her. I believed, given Miho's timidity and lack of resolve, that this threat would be enough to get Miho to fall in line long enough to understand the benefits that come from persistence and determination.

In spite of my reasons, even Maho, who had gone along with everything I asked her to do, was shocked and dismayed that I was going this far. When we watched Miho's match against Pravda together, Maho insisted that I stay until the end, and argued that Miho's persisting and winning a narrow victory was proof of her skill. It seemed that she felt this way all along, but the fact that she was openly expressing such sentiments, knowing I did not agree, was somewhat unprecedented.

In the end, however, Maho resolved to do what she had to, to fulfill my expectations and defeat Miho. I did not expect Miho to be able to win, but thought that the degree of determination she showed, and how she fought against Maho would shed light on what kind of tank commander she was.

* * *

The answer I saw from the clash between Maho's forces and Miho's was not what I hoped for or expected. Miho chose to save the M3 Lee when it stalled in the river, even when doing so would seemingly jeopardize her plans, and ultimately prevailed over Maho.

As Maho approached me after the match, I did not see a hint of shame or fear on her face.

"Maho," I said calmly. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No, Mother," Maho said. "Only that I'm proud of what Miho has accomplished and the way of tankery she has found for herself."

I simply nodded, and decided to discuss the match with her further when we both returned home. The outcome had not been what I had expected, and both it and Maho's response to my question had given me much to think about.

At that moment, Maho clearly showed what she valued most. She had tried her hardest, and fought as I expected her to, but when she was defeated, she was pleased with the result. Maho was always willing to do her duty, and saw Miho doing tankery her own way as not mutually exclusive with the Nishizumi School's best interests. And since Miho had won against Black Forest, thereby both accomplishing her goals and succeeding on our terms, I found it difficult to contest that belief, however much I wanted to.

So perhaps this was what Maho had hoped to see as a result of her efforts, seeing everything she had done to far as sacrifices necessary to achieve it. Her resolve, while beneficial for the Nishizumi school, was toward an end that was different than I had envisioned. A part of me understood Maho's feelings, and wondered what Miho would accomplish in the future. And if the desire to see what Miho could do with her own way of tankery motivated Maho to do her duties and inherit the Nishizumi School, perhaps that was as good a reason as any.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows.

severstal: Those are some good points, which I'll take into account when writing Erika in the future. I'm not sure if this is what you're thinking about when saying that this is a Maho-fic, but one ongoing concern I've been dealing with is keeping the story somewhat focused on Maho, when Miho's actions also draw reactions from many of the observers. Similarly, I've also tried to keep most of the scenes relevant to Maho in some way.

I've considered doing a perspective by Koume (who was called "Aoi Mizuno" in Off the Path, before I found out her name) but she seems more focused on Miho.

Much with Erika, I originally envisioned Shiho as more oblivious to Maho's motives, but I decided to make it so that she has some idea, but doesn't care what motive Maho has as long as she fulfills her expectations.

Also like Erika, it's also fairly difficult to portray Shiho sympathetically, but I decided to show her belief that raising Miho and Maho the way she did was beneficial for them, and while she has strict expectations for them, she doesn't completely see them as means to an end. The final scene was written as one possible interpretation for why Shiho sighs and claps in her final scene. Perhaps she still can't accept Miho's style of tankery as part of the Nishizumi style, but she can't deny that Miho has won, which is what matters most for the Nishizumis.

**Next Time**: Kikuyo, loyal to Shiho and trying to do what she can for her daughters in her position, ponders Maho's decisions and grapples with the question- are there times when the best thing to do is to do nothing at all?


	5. Kikuyo: Devotion

**Chapter 5: Kikuyo: Devotion**

I've heard that the truest measure of how to judge people's true characters is how they treat those below them. If they're your subordinates, do you see them as a means to an end, or do you feel some sense of responsibility to them as their leader? And who do you hope will benefit from your efforts as leader? Are you leading purely to fulfill your own desires, or for a more altruistic purpose?

Good tankery commanders think long and hard about these questions, especially because tankery is a sport that helps girls become respectable women. I learned tankery from a young age, at the Nishizumi School, under the tutelage of Instructor Nishizumi Shiho. My time with the Nishizumi School had changed me, and I felt indebted to Instructor Nishizumi for what she had done for me. And when she sought out someone who could serve her as a maid, a route well-suited to my talents outside of tankery, I volunteered wholeheartedly, hoping to repay her.

As a mistress, Instructor Nishizumi treated me fairly, considering that I was a servant, but made it clear that was all I was. If I had hoped for a mistress I could talk to casually or consider a friend, I would have been gravely disappointed. I had personally accepted that as something that came with my employment, something I had chosen for myself.

One of my duties was caring for the mistress's young children. I was told to see to their needs, show them the utmost respect, and do what they told me to, within reason. As time went on, though, I found that they often came to me for advice, and I ended up playing a role in shaping their development, even if I often could only sit back and watch as they made their choices.

* * *

"Kikuyo-san?" a young Maho-sama said to me one time. "I have a question."

"Please feel free to ask, Maho-sama," I said.

"Why did you decide to come work here?" Maho-sama said. "To do everything Mother tells you to do?"

I suspect Maho-sama was trying to express that she found my situation somewhat degrading, but could not find the words to say it in a way that would not offend me. Nevertheless, I did not find her question's stated or implied meaning offensive, so I endeavored to answer it to the best of my ability.

"I chose to come here to repay a debt of sorts," I said, "one of gratitude to my former teacher for making me into the woman I am today."

"And so you choose to give up all aspirations you had for yourself?" Maho-sama said, incredulous.

I simply smiled and nodded.

"There will come a time when you find something greater than yourself, to which you can dedicate your life, Maho-sama," I said. "For the mistress, that is upholding the traditions of the Nishizumi school. For me, that is helping her in her mission. You will find your own purpose one day, perhaps one not unlike mine."

* * *

As Maho-sama got older, she helped out at her mother's school, and I started seeing a different side of her there. It was serious, professional and confident, but also emotionally detached. This was how the mistress acted in front of her students, so it was natural that she would expect Maho-sama to act the same, or that Maho-sama would naturally emulate her mother.

But unlike the mistress, Maho-sama let down the façade when we were alone, knowing that she could act as she naturally was in my presence. Her younger sister, Miho-sama, did the same when she started talking with me.

And yet, by the same token, Maho-sama realized that as she was my superior, there were many things I could not say or do while in her presence. If the answer to one of her questions required me to say something that would go against the Nishizumi doctrine, I would have to politely refuse to answer. There were also many things that were not explicitly forbidden to me, but I found difficult to do as a result of seeing myself as subservient to Maho-sama, even if she did not necessarily see me the same way. If she asked me to tell her that she was wrong about something, I found it difficult to say that out loud, even if she assured me that it would not be considered insubordination.

But there were things that I _could_ do in my position, for both Maho-sama and Miho-sama, outside of the scope of my official duties and the mistress's orders. I could listen as they told me things they were reluctant to tell even their mother- if not _especially_ their mother. I could offer them kind words and let them know I was rooting for them. I could give them advice about tankery and life in general. And there were times when I could provide more specific assistance.

One day, Miho-sama got home from school in a terrible state, looking almost ill, and broke down in tears in my presence. Having recently made friends through tankery enabled her to start enjoying it more, but also led to the ups and downs of social life. This time, the conflict was with a friend- Nakasuga Emi-sama, who was previously a guest at the Nishizumi house- who hated Maho-sama despite never having met her.

As I not only wanted to help Miho-sama, but also wanted to help her friend come to understand Maho-sama, I gave Miho-sama some advice, based on how her and her friend's failure to discuss the issue had led to the explosive argument earlier that day; sometimes, one's issues have to be confronted. And when Miho-sama, following my tankery analogy and the belief that one's character could be shown through tankery, I willingly made the arrangements to set up a tankery match between Miho-sama and Maho-sama, choosing the arena and agreeing to serve as referee.

In the aftermath of the battle, from which Maho-sama and her team emerged victorious, Miho-sama's friend appeared to not only reconcile with her, but warm up to Maho-sama. Unfortunately, she began to ask about the circumstances in which the German flag tank was disabled- as well as the apparent rescue mission it was on when it was disabled. I had heard nothing about this from Maho-sama, and neither had Miho-sama, who looked at her sister, desperate for an answer. I could only watch as Maho-sama prepared to speak, and the mistress, upon her arrival, cut her off.

The mistress' icy gaze froze Maho-sama in her place, and I nervously greeted her. As much as I respect and am grateful to the mistress, I must concede that she is also quite intimidating, and the consequences for angering her are severe. Maho-sama, while in a position above me, was similarly under the mistress' authority. Unable to speak unless spoken to, and thus unable to impact the situation, I could only watch and listen as Maho-sama did the same before we returned home. Perhaps one afternoon was too little time for Miho-sama's friends to learn the difference between Maho-sama as the commander and Nishizumi heiress, and Maho-sama as the loving older sister and girl who considers her maid a confidant, but I hoped they would eventually find the difference.

* * *

The next day, Miho-sama returned home from school, her friends in tow. She said that Maho-sama had confirmed that her friend's accusation was true, and said that she wanted to ask a question of her mother, with the goal of finding out the reason behind her sister's strange behavior after her mother had returned home, and whether her decision during that match had been necessary.

"…I see," I said, as Miho-sama finished telling me. "Unfortunately, the mistress and Maho-sama are busy training the students at the moment."

"I thought so…" Miho-sama said. "I just hope you don't get in trouble for helping me like this."

"It's part of my job, Miho-sama," I said. "I am to apprise the mistress of the arrival of any guests, while showing them appropriate respect and hospitality."

I showed Miho-sama and her friends into a room to wait for the mistress and Maho-sama. After a few hours, the mistress and Maho-sama arrived. While she was there, I could only listen to her as she confirmed Miho-sama's worst fears, and ordered me to send the guests away.

Nakasuga-sama was incensed at this treatment, and Yusa-sama seemed to object more to her tone than her opinion. But as Nakasuga-sama complained about Maho-sama's reticence, I, bowing before them, told them the scope and difficulty of Maho-sama's responsibilities. Evidently, they understood the point I was trying to make, or at least, how uncharacteristic of me it was to express myself in such a way.

My point had been made, and I got into a jeep to drive them off the Nishizumi property, although Nakasuga-sama briefly ran off to look for Maho-sama to apologize to her. Her search was initially unsuccessful, but it was the thought that counted.

* * *

The next afternoon, while serving tea to Maho-sama, I asked her about her day, and she told me, among other things, that Nakasuga-sama had apologized to her.

"Incidentally, Kikuyo-san, did something happen?" Maho-sama said. "I don't think what Mother said would have swayed Miho's friends to have a more positive opinion of me."

"No, Maho-sama," I said. "After their meeting with you and the mistress ended, I spoke with Miho-sama's friends, Nakasuga-sama in particular, and asked them not to hate you."

"I see," Maho-sama said. "That might explain why she apologized to me."

"I…hope I did not overstep my bounds," I said.

"No, you didn't," Maho-sama said. "You said what was on your mind, and the decision of whether to accept it is in their hands."

Maho-sama seemed pleased with how things had turned out, but seemed slightly doubtful, evidently knowing the difference between her childhood and theirs, and wondering if they would ever fully understand the nature of her responsibilities and the choices she made.

"That's true," I said. "But still, I hope they come to understand you."

Maho smiled appreciatively.

"That might be nice," Maho said. "Of course, whatever my reasons are for inheriting the Nishizumi School, I made my choice long ago, understanding all of what it would imply."

I nodded in understanding.

"In that regard, I'm the same as you, Maho-sama," I said.

* * *

I didn't see as much of Maho-sama and Miho-sama while they were at middle school. Much as it was when I was a schoolgirl, the school ships were meant to foster independence from one's family, by having children live apart from their parents. But the children were not free of their parents' expectations, such as doing well in school, participating in certain extracurricular activities, or upholding the honor of their family name. This was especially true for Maho-sama, whose performance in tankery was carefully watched by the mistress, as was Miho-sama's. Tankery matches had large audiences and were often covered by the news media, so both Maho-sama and Miho-sama were under a great deal of pressure to perform well.

I, along with the everyone who watched the tournament finals in person or on television, witnessed the time when Miho-sama abandoned her flag tank to save the crew of a tank that had fallen into the water, costing Black Forest the championship. As a student of the Nishizumi School, I was well aware that doing so went against the school's teachings. But as someone who had known Miho-sama for all her life, I knew that _not_ doing so would have gone against her nature. And having known Maho-sama for just as long, I was cognizant of the fact that she knew both pieces of information.

The meeting in which the mistress reprimanded Miho-sama for her decision was private; all I could do was see Miho-sama in, and bring in tea at one point. And after Miho-sama reached her decision to leave Black Forest rather than continue to be bound by the mistress' standards, all I could do was help her with the move.

I could not do much in that situation- the only advice that I could offer went against the Nishizumi School's teachings- and could only keep in touch with Miho while she went to her new school, Oarai Academy, and resumed doing tankery. And when the mistress considered disowning Miho-sama, I realized it was completely out of my hands, as well as Maho-sama's; Maho-sama had tried to talk her mother out of it, but had failed. The mistress made it clear, albeit while not saying it outright, that speaking out against it would be considered insubordination, and nothing I could say or do would change her mind.

But in the middle of this process, Maho-sama confided what she realized to me; even if Miho-sama had the ability to make her own decisions, it was still up to her to make the right ones. My response, a simple one, brightened Maho-sama's mood considerably- "Well, then, do you not think Miho-sama can do just that?"

In the end, my belief was correct, and Miho-sama was victorious in the tournament. Her accomplishment was hers alone, and the answer she had was one she had found herself, much like Maho-sama had been motivated to enable her to live her own way, and how I had been motivated by gratitude for the mistress. Because of that, Maho-sama and I were happy for Miho-sama, and eagerly awaited what she would accomplish in the future.

* * *

**Author's Notes  
**

Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows.

severstal: I tend to portray Shiho as having some basis for what she's saying, as well as being right about some things, but overall taking things to a degree that most people would find indefensible. She sees victory as the ultimate goal, but often forgets why they should win; perhaps she sees it as a matter of committing yourself to your personal success and the success of the groups to which you belong, but that fails to put the cause in the appropriate perspective. It's worth noting that while some people (such as Ami and Kikuyo) say that they're indebted to her, no one explicitly expresses agreement for what she's done (apart from Erika's evident disdain for Miho's decision to save the tank).

As for the finals, the previous year, it's possible that Shiho saw Miho's decision as 1)the most visible factor in the loss, and 2)proof of a non-Nishizumi approach to winning. The former means that Miho would get blamed no matter what, and only how much- the fact that Shiho would be likely to conclude that since Miho's response directly led to the flag tank being taken out, it was the only factor involved. The latter would probably have gotten Miho in trouble anyway, even if they had managed to win, hence Shiho's complaining about Miho's "heresy" in the match with Pravda. One possible conclusion is that if Shiho is now faced with two losses in two years, one of which she can't pin on any outside factor, she may have to start rethinking her goals.

Kikuyo is a character from Little Army, who serves as a maid to the Nishizumi Family. It's somewhat telling that she's the one Miho goes to first when she's troubled, rather than her own mother. She has a surprising amount of characterization for her limited panel time, and the conflict she shows in Chapter 8 between her obligation to the Nishizumi school and her desire to help Miho is also somewhat representative of some of the conflict Maho feels in herself.

Kikuyo, in my interpretation, seems at least partly aware of what kind of person, and especially what kind of parent, Shiho is, in spite of her loyalty to her, and stays loyal in spite of not liking how she treats Miho. I thus wonder if she comes off as weak-willed or hypocritical to Western fans who don't consider the idea of "Pillars of Moral character", and Kikuyo saying that she feels indebted to Shiho.

While Kikuyo makes some brief appearances in the Girls und Panzer manga, she doesn't appear in the anime. That, combined with the fact that she can't explicitly go against Shiho (both as a servant and out of a debt of gratitude), and that neither of the Nishizumi sisters are home for long (as is the case for all middle- and high-schoolers save for those like Yukari who have families on the ship) means that her role and her ability to directly observe Miho and Maho are quite limited.

**Next Time**: Miho has long admired her sister, and went into tankery to emulate her. So what can she do now that her sister wants her to find her own path?


	6. Nishizumi Miho: Motivation

**Chapter 6: Nishizumi Miho: Motivation**

When people make a decision to commit themselves to something, from a hobby to a life's career, they usually do so with a specific reason in mind. My sister and I, being Nishizumis, were trained in tankery from a young age, before we could understand why our mother expected to it or come to an understanding of why- or even whether- we wanted to do it. My sister's reason for persisting was clear almost from the beginning, but I struggled to find mine for many years.

Most people cannot simply do what they are told without a reason for doing so. And as a young girl, when having spent much of my childhood training in tankery left me having little in common with my peers, and little to show for it, I wondered what the point in continuing with it was. My mother expected me to obey her, rather than understand, and so did not say much about it apart from the often repeated mantra about our duty to uphold the Nishizumi style.

My sister, who had likely asked herself the same question many times, convinced me not to give up on tankery, and taught me many lessons about tankery and life. Having learned so much from her, and having seen her do so well in her training, I began to look up to my sister, and wanted to follow her example. Emulating those one idolizes, especially those in one's family, is a common fall-back for those who have not yet found their way, and I found myself doing it at first, until I ultimately realized that my sister's path was not one I could follow, nor did she want me to.

* * *

Eventually, I was able to meet friends with whom I could do tankery- Yusa Chihiro-Chan, Yuzumoto Hitomi-chan, and Nakasuga Emi-chan. I had my sister to thank for my becoming friends with Hitomi-chan, but my friendship with Emi-chan got off to a rocky start because she disliked my sister. And while my other friends seemed happy to finally meet my sister when she came home for a short break, she got angry and stormed off, for no reason that was apparent to me at the time. She even went so far as to say that she hated my sister.

I could always tell that Emi-chan was less than fond of my sister, but could hardly believe that she could hate her without even having met her. Consumed by anger, and without thinking, I yelled that I hated her as well.

Upset by everything I had heard and said, I went home, wanting to be alone. But the moment I stepped in the door, Kikuyo-san greeted me, noticing that I seemed very upset. Unable to contain or hide it any longer, I broke down in tears.

As I got older, I became better at keeping my feelings to myself, but typically could not do so without betraying some hint of what I was healing, like a faucet that leaks water even when it's turned off. I didn't fully realize it back then, but I would eventually look back on this day as evidence of how little I could keep my emotions inside the same way my sister did almost every day.

After calming down and drying my tears, I talked with Kikuyo-san, asking her for advice, as I was far more comfortable talking with her than with Mother. In a somewhat roundabout way, she gave me the idea of having Emi-chan face my sister in a tankery match to learn more about her, along with the idea that Emi-chan would have to confront the root of whatever conflict she had with my sister. After I made the proposal to my sister, who agreed readily, and Emi-chan, who required some convincing, we held a match in the training areas near our home, with Kikuyo-san as the referee.

We lost, which I suspected would happen from the beginning, given how skilled my sister was at tankery, and how much more experience she had. In spite of that, I had fun, and Emi-chan started to warm up to my sister, especially after my sister gave her medicinal ointment for where she hit her head. My sister did not consider her opponents her enemies, and did not believe that random acts of kindness toward them were beneath her or unfair impositions on her. As such, I hoped that Emi-chan would realize that my sister had no malicious intentions when she won against the German team.

But then I learned the true reason why Emi-chan had hated my sister, and that there was more to the story of my sister's victory in the tournament than I had initially been told. When my sister shot the German flag tank, it had been in the process of trying to rescue some of her teammates, who had fallen off an unstable piece of ground at the edge of a cliff.

I could hardly believe it at the time. As disturbing and upsetting as the idea of Emi-chan hating my sister for no reason seemed to me, it seemed easier to believe than the idea of my sister having done something that incurred Emi-chan's hatred. Was my sister so determined to win that she would shoot at a tank that was trying to save her comrades, whose lives were possibly in danger? I refused to believe that this was true, and hoped she would refute Emi-chan's accusations, even as my sister seemed to be caught off guard by what Emi-chan was saying.

But then my mother arrived, and Kikuyo-san and I were frozen in place as she congratulated my sister on her victory and beckoned her to come home. As a result of Kikuyo-san's position and my natural personality, we found it difficult to even consider opposing Mother, however minor the way. It was not until much later that I considered the possibility that my sister was just as scared of my mother, but better at hiding it. Back then, I took my sister's outward emotions at face value, albeit with some hope that there was more to it than she let on.

That evening, before dinner, I waited outside the living room, where my sister and mother were talking. The moment they emerged, I asked to speak to my sister for a moment, which my mother reluctantly allowed, urging me to get it over with. My sister appeared no more receptive to this, curtly telling me that what Emi-chan said was true, before walking off. As she did, I reeled from the impact her cold tone had on me, and broke down in tears. Quickly drying my tears, I kept my emotions inside through dinner, knowing that no one would be able to support me, and broke down again once I got back to my room.

My worst fears had been confirmed. If I wanted to continue in tankery, I would have to make decisions like the one my sister had, and become a cold and ruthless commander. Neither of those were things that I could do, so I approached my friends at school the next day, and told them of my decision to quit.

Emi-chan was unwilling to accept this, though, dragging me away by my wrist to speak with her, Chihiro-chan and Hitomi-chan outside. She was always honest to a fault, so she naturally couldn't stand it when her friends were troubled and didn't confide in her.

I told my friends everything that had happened, and what I had heard from my sister. Hitomi-chan noted that this was at odds with my sister's behavior in our previous encounters. I was surprised to hear that from her, and to this day, find it surprising that someone who was a mere acquaintance to my sister had to remind me what was in-character for her.

Chihiro-chan noted that her mother was strict, too, and concluded that my mother's arrival was the direct cause of my sister's change in behavior. I had briefly entertained the idea of my sister being affected by my mother's presence, but was less certain of that until now, when the idea of one of my friends reaching a similar conclusion bolstered my hopes.

Chihiro-chan's story was helpful in other ways. I had long believed that my family was different from others in many regardss- we were wealthier than most who lived near us, our family was more focused on a tradition than most, and my mother was stricter and more emotionally distant than most other parents I knew of. Knowing that Chihiro-chan had some idea of what I was going through not only gave me some understanding of my situation, but made me feel less alone.

Feeling as though my friends are with me is an important sensation for me, as it enables me to become more confident and do things I would not otherwise think myself capable of. And so, I decided to accept the help of my friends this time, to do what was almost unthinkable for me- question my mother as to whether my sister truly needed to do what she did.

The answer, as I feared, was yes, and I began to lose hope. I had to wonder- would I be able to rescue my friends or my rivals if such a situation came, or would my fear of Mother hold me back? And would my sister ever be as warm or open with me again, or would Mother force us apart, lest I become a bad influence on her?  
But Kikuyo-san then pleaded with my friends to not hate my sister, telling them of her burdens. This was something I already knew, but it was slightly reassuring to hear it from her, and hear her say it to my friends.

Kikuyo-san drove away with my friends, and I stood for a moment, wondering what I would do next. But it was my sister who made the next move, asking to speak with me.

My sister brought me to a tank where we had played when we were young girls, and, after apologizing to me for upsetting me, did what could be considered unthinkable for the Nishizumi school heiress- she told me to find my own way of tankery. As I heard the warmth and sincerity in her voice, and saw her gentle smile, I realized that this was my real sister, the part of her that came out when no one who would judge her was watching. It was not like her to shoot a tank that was trying to rescue her comrades, and I realized at that moment that she had not knowingly done so. Perhaps being in my sister's presence while she had the cold and aloof persona my mother demanded was painful to me, but I wondered if it was also painful to her, given how she had seemed when giving her apology. And if she had that much difficulty with it, then it made sense that she would want me to choose a different path.

Doing what my sister suggested was more difficult than I had thought, much to Emi-chan's consternation, as she prepared to leave for Germany. Evidently, she found it frustrating that I was unable to do something relatively simple, especially when she was starting the same process itself. I found it understandable, even though it was difficult to rethink my reasons for doing tankery thus far. But as I said goodbye to her, I stated my resolve to find my own way of tankery and see Emi-chan again one day.

* * *

Before long, I entered middle school and did tankery alongside my sister, eventually going to Black Forest together with her. Mother watched our progress and performance closely, expecting great things from us. While the pressure was unpleasant for me, my sister remained calm, and as I saw her lead us to victory time and time again, I began to understand where her calmness came from. For her, winning was a relatively simple task for someone of her skills, and with the quality of tanks and crew at her command. Over time, I realized that if we could achieve this much we did not need to think about why we had to win, and could enjoy our matches.

While proceeding under this mindset, though, I gradually forgot the possibility of having to choose between winning and upholding my own values, believing that with my sister's help, things would not have to come to that. So when one of my school's tanks fell into the water in the national finals, I abandoned the flag tank to go after it, knowing full well what would likely happen. I was able to save the crew of the tank at the cost of losing the game, a fair trade in my eyes, but not everyone else's.

My sister knew how I had reacted to hearing what she had done in the match against Germany years ago and privately, she agreed with my decision. However, as heiress of the Nishizumi School and as commander of Black Forest's tankery team, she was under a great deal of pressure, particularly by our mother, to denounce what I had done and rededicate herself toward restarting the team's winning streak. I had some idea of the pressure my sister was under, and did not blame her for not speaking in my defense in front of Mother, because I believed that if I stayed, I would be subject to the same pressure as well, both as Vice-Captain and as the person who was blamed for what had happened.

I left Black Forest and came to Oarai Academy. As fate would have it, the school was restarting its tankery program the year I came, and it was as different from Black Forest as could be considered possible. I was initially reluctant to accept the invitation of a Student Council that would likely be relying on my talents for their success, thus placing no small amount of pressure on me, and even more so when they seemingly threatened the three of us with expulsion- how far would they go to succeed? But ith the support of my friends, Takebe Saori-san and Isuzu Hana-san, I accepted, wanting to do tankery once more with my friends. Through my time at Oarai, I began to enjoy tankery again.

My family name did, however, follow me, even though I had turned my back on the Nishizumi style. Our tankery instructor, a student of my mother's, immediately recognized me and asked me if my sister was doing well, and gave a highly respectful discussion about the Nishizumi School before Saori-san, noticing my distress, changed the subject. One reason I found it difficult to argue with my mother was because of how much the Nishizumi School had accomplished, compared to my own ideas, which seemed untested by comparison, even if I had reasons why I could not do everything the way the Nishizumi style dictated. And upon further consideration, I concluded that my sister _had_ chosen to go with the flow, albeit for different reasons than my mother expected.

My participation in the school's tankery team also caused my path to cross with that of my sister, and this time, we were on opposing sides.

* * *

When we went to the tournament drawing, we stopped for cakes in a tankery cafe on the way back. While there, we had a chance encounter with my sister and Itsumi Erika-san, my successor as vice-captain.

By now, I had learned that my sister had to act cold and aloof at times as part of the attitude expected of her as a Nishizumi-style commander, but I still found it quite painful that she would treat me in such a way, or not say anything in response to Erika-san badmouthing me.

My friends stood up to defend me, but Erika-san seemed unfazed by their arguments, looking down on us as a school that was unworthy to compete. I found it hard to argue that most of Oarai's tanks were weaker than those of Black Forest's, and its crews were less experienced, but I found myself impressed with the level of enthusiasm my teammates showed, and was touched by their willingness to defend me.

But then Mako-san pointed out that it might be quite a surprise if Oarai were able to triumph against Black Forest despite not being thought of as worthy to compete, finally getting under Erika-san's skin. Whether Mako knew how much Black Forest's loss that year had shook the school or had made a lucky guess, her remark got to Erika-san in ways that my friends' comments had not. Erika-san made one final parting shot before leaving with my sister.

As my sister left, I desperately hoped my friends would not come to hate her, much like Emi-chan had in the past. None of them had any siblings, although they likely assumed that was not how sisters were supposed to act toward each other. Only Hana-san had the kind of family that put expectations on her that were similar to those my sister had faced, and she had chosen to go against her mother's wishes for her own desires. Because their families were so different than mine, they thus seemed less than likely that they would view my sister the same way I did, but they, at least outwardly, seemed relatively understanding toward her.

And yet, because their values were so different from those of the Nishizumi School, and because they believed there were things more important than victory, I knew that I would have them on my side if I had to make a decision similar to the one I made in the previous tournament finals. Knowing this helped encourage me to continue with tankery, even though I didn't initially understand why the Student Council was so desperate to win.

Of course, I knew that given what little I had told my friends of my family thus far, any conclusions they drew about my sister were likely to be unfavorable. So in order for that to change, one of two things would happen- either I would have to tell them my story, however difficult I found talking about my family, or my sister would have to show another side to herself.

The latter was what happened first, after our victory over Saunders. As Mako-san found out that her grandmother had been hospitalized, while she was without any means of getting to the hospital, my sister approached us. Just as suddenly as Mako-san had heard the news about her grandmother, my sister offered us a ride on the helicopter, much to Erika-san's displeasure. While she justified it as part of tankery, I realized that was my sister speaking, not the commander of Black Forest or the heiress of the Nishizumi School, and thanked her for what she had done. And while my friends did not talk much about my family after that, I think they took notice as well.

* * *

My sister and I met again in the finals, competing for the championship. She had many people who were expecting her to win for Black Forest and the Nishizumi School, and I also had to win, to ensure the continued existence of my school. My sister was now thus just like the rest of my opponents since my school entered the tournament. Her winning would result in my school being shut down, but she did not necessarily wish for that to happen, and had her own reasons for wanting to win. But while the odds were against us, and I had to prevail against the person whose skills I admired most for the longest time, I ultimately succeeded, using my knowledge of my sister and my former school's tactics against her.

We met in the aftermath of the battle, and my sister congratulated me, glad that I was able to find my own reason to do tankery. My friends saw my sister as she truly was, rather than the person various people expected her to be.

Perhaps one day, likely in the near future, I will tell my friends the entire story of my past in tankery, as well as how my sister's choices influenced the ones I made for myself. When I do, I hope that in light of everything they've seen about her, they won't be surprised to learn about the kind of person my sister truly is and what motivates her.

* * *

**Author's Notes  
**

As far as I know, Miho has been aware, since Chapter 7 of Little Army, of the dissonance between Maho, her older sister, and Maho, the heiress of the Nishizumi School/commander of Black Forest. And yet, while she understands that Maho has a kinder side, hence her relative lack of surprise at Maho's displays of kindness, she doesn't like being treated coldly.

While this fic isn't about Miho and her mother's relationship, it's interesting to note that while Miho has not spoken out against her mother, she seems to be fully aware of what kind of person and parent her mother is, and puts next to no effort into trying to win Shiho's approval; she gets involved with tankery to be like her sister, and seeks out her own way of tankery on her sister's behest. Perhaps this is as close as Miho can get to openly calling her mother out.

Miho doesn't seem to bring up the events of Little Army much in the anime, although it could be attributed to the fact that it wasn't written at the time. I wonder if we'll see references to it if there's a sequel.

**Next Time: **Maho has been forced to make many difficult choices in her quest to help her sister live her life as she sees fit. But does Miho's happiness take more than such choices?


	7. Nishizumi Maho: Choices

**Final Chapter: Nishizumi Maho: Choices**

From the moment I was born as a daughter of the Nishizumi family, I inherited a great responsibility. Before I was old enough to fully understand why, I was trained for the purpose of succeeding my mother as head of the Nishizumi School. For most people, keeping and maintaining a tradition seems too abstract a concept for them to dedicate their lives, a belief I shared, even if I had no choice in the matter. But my younger sister, Miho, felt that way as well, and that was all the reason I needed.

The concept of striving for the sake of someone else did not always come easily to me, even after I heard our maid, Kikuyo-san, tell me of her devotion and loyalty to Mother. I suppose Mother also knew that the value of something as abstract as tradition would beyond my ken while I was a young girl, and so expected me to do what I was told because she said so, as parents often do. I was able to resign myself to this to some extent, but a part of Miho always kept questioning the Nishizumi style.

Miho and I were different in many ways, while growing up, with Miho being more emotionally open, less confident, and slightly more outgoing than I was. Some might conclude that because of our differences, we would not get along, but that was not the case. I liked what was different about Miho- her kindness, her consideration of others, and her desire to understand and connect with other people. And Miho saw me as an older sister, rather than a commander, or otherwise overly idealized figure. And it stood to reason that if she looked up to me, she would want to emulate me. Part of me was touched, but another part wondered if she could truly bring herself to do what I was doing.

Unfortunately, it was quickly becoming clear to both of us that Miho could not do so. Miho considered quitting at one point, finding it difficult to make friends when so few shared her interest in tankery. If Mother had learned of her saying this, she would have found it absurd that Miho would value friends above tankery. But I, on the other hand, realized that if this much was almost unbearable for her, she would not be able to be the stern, stoic commander the Nishizumis valued, nor would she be able to keep the same sort of distance from others, especially those under her command.

I am a somewhat popular person, apart from the many people who resent or are jealous of me, but have few actual friends. Many of the people who like me, if asked why, will point to my accomplishments as a commander, or the qualities I exhibit in tankery. Erika is one such person, and while we have known each other for a long time, and spent a long time together, Erika will always see me, first and foremost, as the heiress of the Nishizumi School and her superior in one way or another. As such, while there are not any conflicts between us, I doubt we can ever truly be friends, and the same goes for the rest of my subordinates, who do not know me as well. It's somewhat depressing to describe it in those terms, but I have long since come to terms with it.

Miho, on the other hand, interacted with many others her age, who often had tankery as an interest, but it was only a part of themselves, and often a fleeting interest that they only pursued because their friends did. If I had to point to a single influence that caused Miho to turn out differently from me, in spite of being raised in virtually identical circumstances, I would choose the fact that she befriended such people. Her doing so not only signified that she did not see their lesser commitment as a negative trait, but also resulted in her starting to view tankery as something that was fun, and something that she could do with her friends.

I did not consider these differences to be weaknesses on Miho's part. But I knew that her personality and the Nishizumi style would be at odds. As such, the only way for Miho to continue doing tankery was to do so her own way.

* * *

In my first year of middle school, which was Miho's final year of elementary school, I competed in and won my first tankery tournament, defeating Germany's team in the tournament finals in spite of an accident in which a tank fell off some unstable ground, injuring some members of my team, which I only found out about after the game had ended. While I was relieved to hear that it was not as bad as it could have been, I did not realize the full truth of what had happened at the time.

Shortly after that happened, in the summer, Miho made friends who shared her interest in tankery, but not the sort who would favor the Nishizumi style. One was a girl whose primary interest was soccer, and apparently enjoyed tankery, but only as something she could do with her friends. Another was a girl who, by all accounts, had difficulty staying focused on anything for any given length of time, much less making it something to which she could devote her life. And the third was a girl who bore resentment toward me for the time when I had, unwittingly, fired on an enemy flag tank that was rescuing one of my teammates.

When she confronted me with that accusation after the practice battle I had with her and the rest of Miho's team, I was surprised and caught off guard, although I realized that in light of this, it made sense why she detested me. And yet, with Miho unwilling to believe I had done such a thing, and with her friend seeming slightly doubtful, it now fell on me to explain myself. How could I admit that the accusation was true without coming off as callous? How could I convince them that I had not known the crew of the German flag tank's benevolent intentions without seeming as though I was making an excuse for my own behavior?

This was a recurring problem for me. I often come off somewhat unfavorably in the eyes of others who do not share the Nishizumi School's values, who view my final choices without knowing what I was choosing between, or what was a stake. Indeed, it made sense that for those who grew up in normal families that there would seem to be no good reason for keeping Miho at a distance. And those who did not share the Nishizumi School's ruthless desire for victory, and erroneously assumed I knew that one of my tanks was in danger would have believed that I should not have fired on the flag tank. For the most part, I accepted such people's judgments of me, secure in my belief that my choices were the best, if not the perfect ones. But now, Miho was seeking an explanation of some sort, so what answer could I give her?

Before I could give my answer, Mother arrived, and I was forced to act as I did around her. And when Miho approached me about it later, with Mother in earshot, I had to take the official Nishizumi School line- that shooting an enemy flag tank on a rescue mission was both proper and necessary. I deeply regretted bringing Miho to tears with that, especially while in my Nishizumi heiress persona, but realized that was something Miho had to hear. Miho had to come to terms with the ruthlessness of her family's style, so she could follow her own path.

Learning of my role in that incident was quite hard on Miho, who valued her comrades over victory and believed that I did the same for mine, and her shock was not helped by the overly cold and dismissive tone I took when breaking the news to her. And while she ultimately forgave me, she realized just how far the Nishizumi School planned on going for the sake of victory- as well as that she could not do the same.

Miho, quite naturally, found all this difficult to accept, and, deeply shaken by what I had said, brought her friends together to directly question Mother, an unusually bold and even desperate move for her. Seeing her there in our living room, waiting hours for our mother, I realized this immediately, as well as how I was responsible, even if I could not say what I needed to while in Mother's presence.

The time when Miho asked Mother about whether I should have fired on the tank drew many different reactions. Mother believed that it was a foolish question. Miho's friend believed it was proof that the Nishizumi school was despicably callous. Miho herself began to despair, knowing what Mother would expect of her in the future. And I knew that the Nishizumi School's ideology was not one that Miho could follow.

Of course, tankery itself was not the problem. Miho made most of her friends through it, and enjoyed it when she was able to forget our family's expectations of her. So I realized at the time that the most important thing I could do was get her to realize that it was possible to do tankery without following our family's style.

Unfortunately, the most difficult part about that was that the responsibility for doing that lay in Miho's own hands. My path was a long and arduous one, but it was one that was clearly paved for me. Miho had to find her path on her own, and I could do little more than encourage her.

Miho's friend also seemed to take this perspective when she approached me to apologize for unfairly making assumptions about me. She also suggested that she would not be in Japan for long, and hoped that Miho would find an answer before she left. The process was not that simple, easy or brief, but Miho was able to resolve herself to it before parting ways with her friend.

* * *

Eventually, Miho got into middle school, and began competing in tankery, trying to enjoy it while also fulfilling Mother's expectations. I had responsibilities of my own, as I came to command our middle school's tankery team, and later, Black Forest. I was expected to win, and chose to do so, not only in order to fulfill my obligations, or to fulfill my goal of helping Miho, but also because I believed my teammates deserved as much.

Miho was curious as to why I was so calm in the face of all this pressure. My reason was simple; there were many demands on me, but they were not necessarily competing ones, and could all be fulfilled the same way- winning. I believed that as long as I did well as a commander, Miho would feel significantly less pressure and be able to focus on enjoying tankery. That way, Mother would be satisfied with us, our school would continue to win, and Miho could enjoy herself.

Miho came to Black Forest, and applied to become my Vice-Captain. She did so on Mother's behest, but I was glad to have Miho as my second-in-command. There were those, such as Erika, who were not happy with my choosing my sister as my vice-captain, even if few said it outright, but I believed that as long as Miho did well, then she would prove herself worthy of her position, and my choosing her would be vindicated, something that would be good for both our sakes.

But then the incident in the tournament finals happened, when Miho's ideals and Mother's demands came into conflict. Both Miho's decision to save the tank, and Mother's decision to rebuke her for it once we ended up losing in the end were the ones I had expected from each of them. The outcome was unfortunate, yet inevitable from the moment the tank fell into the water, and Miho was in the optimal position to help. But did this mean that Miho's decision to abandon not only Black Forest, but tankery itself, was inevitable as well? I had suggested that she might end up leaving in the future, and saw it as preferable to forcing herself to do things our way. But I had hoped that she would find her own solution, rather than falsely assume that the only choice was doing tankery the Nishizumi way or not doing it at all- the way Mother hoped she would envision that choice, even if her choice was not the one Mother wanted.

* * *

In spite of my feelings, I was still Black Forest's commander, and still had a job to do. Beyond the personal significance to me, Miho's departure from the school also left me with the task of finding a replacement for her. While my mother hoped I would choose Erika, for several reasons, I considered Erika to be the logical choice. She was one of the better applicants, albeit not as good a choice as Miho, and was fairly well-regarded in the school, especially among those who had turned against Miho after she had done what she did- I wasn't certain whether the people who felt that way were in the majority, but they were quite vocal, and they made it difficult for people to speak out in favor of Miho, myself included.

Of course, Erika was not without her flaws. She tended to underestimate the rival schools, and her views on them seemed to run the gamut from viewing them as opponents to whom Black Forest had no business losing, and being unworthy to enter the tournament. I didn't like that mindset for several reasons, particularly in that it ruled out the chance that Pravda might have won anyway, and Miho's decision might not have been the sole factor that caused our loss. She was also hot-tempered and sometimes impulsive, traits that sometimes ended up making her moves predictable in tankery. Most of all, she seemed obsessed with surpassing Miho; I noticed that she seemed to dislike the crew that was endangered during the finals, and wondered if it was not because of their role in their defeat, but their gratitude and respect for her predecessor, their savior.

And yet, while I could not help but compare Erika to Miho, I also had to recognize that Erika, like the rest of the team, was giving her all, and Erika's said efforts were helpful to my goal, even if she didn't share it. I thus made certain to routinely express my appreciation to Erika, although I believed she would not like to hear why I appreciated it.

Miho's crew asked about her, and were disappointed to hear that she had left, feeling quite ashamed of themselves and believing they played a role in her departure. I told them that they should not blame themselves for what happened, but should dedicate themselves to improving themselves for the future. They appreciated what I had to say, and were glad that they had something to do rather than merely feel helpless, a sentiment I agreed with at the moment. Even if I couldn't directly help Miho at this point, keeping busy helped keep my mind off the problem. And with Black Forest determined to avoid another defeat, I had a great deal of work ahead of me, and little time for self-pity.

Through circumstances unknown to me, Miho got back into tankery at her new school, and started on a path that put her in opposition to me.

* * *

Shortly after the tournament drawing in my final year of high school, I encountered Miho, as well as her friends, in a nearby tankery café. The odds of this happening were higher than one might expect, considering that we both were drawing the lots as representatives for our respective schools. I was quite surprised to see Miho as Oarai's commander- she had the skill, but I did not think she had any interest in leading her entire team. Something had changed for Miho in our time apart, although I was not sure what.

This encounter should have been a happy coincidence for us. However, Erika was watching me, as were many of the customers in the café, who were involved in tankery to various degrees, and Mother's instructions to be wary of how to deal with Miho still stood. With that in mind, the only thing that seemed appropriate to say in my position was "I didn't think you'd still be doing tankery." Clearly, Miho had as little desire to hear that from me as I had to limit myself to saying that, and I wondered if we would meet again, in a similarly awkward and tense atmosphere, that we were doing tankery for different high schools.

Miho's new friends were not happy to hear me speak to her in such a way, and were even less pleased with Erika doing the same, so they quickly rose up to defend her. It was fairly natural that they, being a new team to the tankery tournament, would not be happy to hear other teams not only being dismissive of their chances of winning, but thinking them unworthy to compete.

I had mixed feelings about this; I was pleased that Miho had people who were willing to stand up for her, but was saddened that my behavior would prevent them from realizing that we were on the same side, in a sense. Of course, that was an inevitable consequence of the actions I had to take as commander, and the Miho's friends' unfavorable conclusions about me were unfortunate, but understandable.

As such, I could only ask Erika to come with me and leave the scene before Miho became any more upset. And even though I found Erika's assessment of Oarai's chances difficult to dispute, even considering how much she underestimated Miho, I silently wished Miho the best of luck in the tournament.

* * *

And yet, not unlike Kikuyo-san, there were things that I _could_ do in my position, as I realized, on the spur of the moment, after Oarai's match with Saunders. When I overheard the shorter girl with dark hair mention that her grandmother had been hospitalized, I, on a mere reflex, offered to take her over to the hospital. Erika protested my decision, possibly influenced by her dislike for the Oarai girls, and her reluctance to engage in such acts. I felt slightly guilty about forcing her, our helicopter pilot, to do this, knowing that she would obey my orders in spite of what her objections were or how much she disliked the orders I gave. In spite of that, I believed Miho's friend's need outweighed any objections Erika might have.

As I walked away, I was glad to see that not only was Miho grateful for what I had done, but the significance of it was not lost on her. I believed that if no one else understood what I was trying to do, as long as the sister I hoped to help through my actions did, it would be enough.

* * *

This belief, however, only held up as long as I believed that my actions _were_ helping Miho. My mother soon learned about Miho's return to tankery as commander for the Oarai team, and considered disowning her. My attempts to speak out in her defense had no effect on Mother, and the most I could hope for was to get her to continue watching the match between Oarai and Pravda in the semifinals. And while I realized I could not do everything for Miho, the idea that all my efforts and sacrifices could not protect Miho from being cast out of our family filled me with despair and a sense of helplessness.

My description of my mother, the woman who brought me into the world, raised me, taught me about tankery and gave me a sister, may be fairly harsh. But in times like this, when she places great expectations on Miho, there are times when I wonder just how important the Nishizumi school is to Mother, and whether we could not be more like a normal family. I never summoned the nerve to ask Mother directly, but felt as though she answered this question when she said that one day, when I inherited the school, I would understand why she did what she did.

But I knew from personal experience that while people can change, there are some things they cannot do. In all the years Miho had done tankery, she had refused to come around to Mother's perspective, no matter what Mother had done. And there was no amount of time long enough or argument convincing enough to sway me to accept casting Miho out of the family.

After the match ended in Oarai's victory, Mother did not follow through on her plan, although she remained unconvinced of Miho's skill. She considered Miho's way of tankery heresy, and charged me with the task of defeating her in the finals. But Miho had not been disowned, which was as much as I could hope for at the time. The prospect of Mother deciding to disown Miho or holding the threat above her head to force her obedience was a troubling one, but I believed that Miho could do what she believed was right in spite of whatever pressure Mother brought to bear, or win regardless of the stakes.

* * *

When I saw Miho at the finals, nothing needed to be said. She was determined to win her way, and did not need Mother's permission or approval. Out of respect for that, I chose to face her with everything I had, and see how she could meet the challenge.

Miho rose to the occasion, against each of my challenges, defeating the best her old school had to offer, including the Maus, a secret weapon we had not deployed in any of our matches in Miho's year at the school.

In the face of all these setbacks, many, particularly Erika, were shocked, not having expected a school like Oarai to be able to push us this far. I remained calm for the sake of my troops, not only out of a desire to maintain my façade, but because I had expected- and hoped for- Miho to do this. As such, the inevitable outcome- Miho, along with her crew, triumphing over my crew- was as much a natural outcome in my eyes as it was an unbelievable one in Erika's.

But in the end, I think Erika came to terms with what had happened, as did Mother, to an extent. Miho had found her own way of tankery, and proven that she could stand against the champions in the tournament. Ultimately, while everything I did was to allow Miho to make her choices, she was the only one who could make the right onesfor herself.

For good or for ill, I have made my choices- which have not always been easy- and people will draw their own conclusions about me. But I believe that because I have made these choices, Miho now makes her own decisions and sets out for her own path. So long as Miho is happy with that path she has chosen, I will be content with the one chosen for me.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for reading this fic.

This chapter was largely intended to tie things together, and provide a start-to-finish account from Maho's own perspective, including how she sees the various people who have their own perspectives on her.


End file.
